


always greener

by pleurer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Lingerie, Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: If he could’ve schemed his way into her heart, he would’ve done it long ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-timeskip. I haven't finished Golden Deer, and I don't think there's anything here that contradicts canon, but if so, then please disregard any inaccuracies.
> 
> Originally posted [here](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/389793.html?thread=2290740385#cmt2290740385).

If he could’ve schemed his way into her heart, he would’ve done it long ago.

He’d thought he was smart for putting the offer on the table— two single, fun-loving people, neither of whom wanted to be tied down. She was gorgeous and playful, and the spark in her eye and the bite in her words reeled him in like bait. In bed, she was almost exactly as he predicted— a pillow princess to her core. But Claude found he didn’t mind doing the work, not when it meant that he could hear the illicit sounds that fell from her lips as he chased his pleasure inside of her. And sometimes, he found himself being pleasantly surprised when she did a thing or two for him— dropped to her knees like a natural, and let him indulge in releasing himself across her face, though she grumbled all the while as she wiped it off.

So he'd thought it was a pretty good arrangement. As it turns out, the best laid plans go awry.

Claude likes girls. Maybe a little too much. But he doesn’t treat it like a game, or some elaborate way to find a mate. It’s important to him that whoever he’s involved with enjoys it just as much as he does. And that they stay friends no matter what. Maybe that’s why he continues to seek Hilda out at the training grounds, and digs his own grave just that much deeper when he watches her swing an axe twice her size without breaking a sweat, cutting down five competitors in succession.

“Whew,” she says, throwing the axe down on the ground and wiping the nonexistent sweat from her brow. “That was exhausting. A delicate flower like me really shouldn’t have to fight, but what can I say? The rewards were good.” She bats her eyelashes, a coy, false gesture that Claude knows is habitually baked into her and isn’t really a flirtatious device, not in this case. It doesn't stop his heart from beating fast.

She collects the handful of gold from the tournament facilitator. “What should I buy with all this?” she says, smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Hmm, there’s a new merchant in town, and I hear they’ve got some fashionable stuff.” And then, with a sideways glance at Claude that he doesn’t expect, she grins as if to herself. “Oh, yeah. Meet me in my room after dusk, will you?”

He does. After the sun goes down, he sneaks into her room when no one's looking. He takes a seat on the bed where she’s asked him to sit, and watches, mesmerized, as she unbuttons her blouse and lets her hair let down, something she only does with him, or maybe whoever else she fucks when they’re not together. The thought leaves his mind as soon as it came when he sees the undergarments she’s got on. They’re a rich shade of green, much like the shade of his own eyes. The lace bralette and thong put all of her best features on display, but he likes the playful glint in her eyes the most.

“Just thought we could have some fun with this,” says Hilda as she straddles his lap. “We’ve got a dress code for our uniforms, but nobody said anything about  _ underwear _ , did they?”

“They sure didn’t,” says Claude in staunch agreement.

“You know, I got you a matching set,” says Hilda. She looks at him like she maybe expects him to back away. He just laughs, ignoring the way his lower region stirs at the thought. That's a discovery he'll deal with later. He's already had one too many discoveries for the moment.

“I should’ve guessed you’d do that,” Claude replies. “You want me to put it on right now? You’ll have to get off me, you know.”

She smiles at him like he’s passed a test. “Maybe next time.” She rolls off of him and lies back against the bed. “So? You going to just look, or are you going to touch?”

He does touch. He skirts a hand along the strap of the bra, runs a reverent hand over the smooth skin of her waist just above the hem of the panties. She watches him, lips glossed up, silky pink hair spread out against the pristine white of her pillowcase. He thinks she says something just then, but he barely hears it— his breath catches in his throat as his eyes roam her half-clothed body. He thinks about how she’d probably be the most beautiful girl he ever fucked, and that wouldn’t even be the most impressive thing about her.

“Claude?” she said, eyeing him expectantly, a fraction of annoyance beginning to surface in her eyes. “Were you even listening?”

“Yeah, totally,” says Claude. “I’m with you. Keep talking.”

He regrets it when he hears the words that next escape her mouth. “You know, I like what we have, but I really don’t want to put in the work for a relationship. Dating somebody is just an elaborate setup for being let down in the end. So don’t fall in love with me or anything, okay?”

He’s already been let down, but he won’t tell her that. Instead, he puts on a smile so practiced it almost feels like the real thing, and says, “I wouldn’t even think of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Hilda's POV.

Of course she notices him watching her. How could she not? His eyes are always drifting towards her, masking affection and admiration with detached intrigue. She swings her axe a little more forcefully than she needs to, arcing the curve of her back, tilting her head so that her hair glints under the sun's golden rays.

She collects the rewards and counts the gold in her hands. Just enough to get those garments she’s had her eye on. “Oh, yeah,” she says to Claude with a false air of casualness she’s almost sure he’ll see through. “Meet me in my room after dusk, will you?”

She goes to the stables to fetch Marianne, for she could use a neutral eye to evaluate what would look best on her. On her way there, she sees Claude chatting up the Professor. She positions herself behind a wall and listens in. They’re discussing tactics for the next mission, trading banter back and forth with ease. Talking about formations Hilda vaguely recalled hearing about in lecture, but didn't see the point in memorizing— even back home with her brother, he’d tell her exactly where to go and what to do to earn their victory. She was strong, yes, but she was a follower, not a tactician. Claude and the Professor, on the other hand, matched each other in this aspect and many others. 

Hilda considers herself to be above such petty emotions as jealousy, and she knows Claude well enough to understand that his interest in the Professor is not romantic in nature. Still, she imagines it— a world in which she and Claude could walk around the monastery, hand in hand. Where they could ride into town on their wyverns and vanquish enemies together, and be the kind of couple that people wrote operas about. And then she imagines Claude with somebody else, someone like the Professor. Someone responsible, capable, and hardworking. Someone who wouldn’t let him down. Who wouldn’t be terrified to death at the very idea of it. 

“I-is something wrong?” Marianne asks in that quiet, gentle voice of hers when they head out into the town.

“No, of course not,” says Hilda. “I’m just tired from training, that’s all.” She yawns into her hand, and picks up the delicate garments in a detached manner. “I was thinking these ones?” 

“Oh,” says Marianne, breath catching in her throat. “Those would look beautiful on you.”

“They would, wouldn’t they?” She grabs a set, and then, thinking on it for a moment, gets a matching set in a larger size. The idea had been floating around in her head for ages, and just because she can’t have a grand romance with Claude doesn’t mean she can’t at least have _ this. _Only if he’s up for it, of course, but given that he’d basically begged her to choke him the first time they had sex, she doubts he’ll turn her down.

When evening comes, he arrives at her room right on time. “Sit on the bed,” she commands. She straddles him with ease, runs a hand over his chest, and revels in the way his pulse jumps. He’s a little bit like prey beneath her, like a deer caught in the light of a torch. But he looks at her only with breathless awe, while she is the one who feels fear. 

She tells him about the matching set, and as she expected, he seems surprised but on board. She commands him to touch, and he does, avoiding the places she craves his touch most. Whether he’s teasing her, or whether he truly enjoys learning the curves of her body beyond simply seeking pleasure, she can’t quite tell. The more they do this, the more the lines get blurred.

“You know I don’t date, right?” she blurts out suddenly. He’s too lost in the moment to pay attention to her words, so she repeats herself. “Claude? Were you even listening?”

“Yeah, totally,” says Claude. “I’m with you. Keep talking.” 

So he was _not_ listening, then. That was good to know. “You know,” she continues, “I like what we have, but I really don’t want to put in the work for a relationship. Dating somebody is just an elaborate setup for being let down in the end. So don’t fall in love with me or anything, okay?”

He smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t even think of it.”

She sighs inwardly. This whole thing rests on the two of them mastering the balancing act between superficiality and honesty, but he's slipping. She doesn't want to slip with him. She could get up off of him, take his hands off her body, to prevent them both from falling even deeper into this. But then again, it’s so much nicer like this. Like when he eventually turns her around and pins her down to the bed, and puts his mouth on her and getting her to come apart. It’s so much nicer to indulge in those short little moments of respite when she doesn’t have to worry about living up to the expectations of something as weighty as love. It’s alright, really, because this isn’t love. She could end this any time she wants. She’s just lazy.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know who I want (or want to be) more in this ship... I just know I love them a lot. :")
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. <3


End file.
